ISSUE FIVE
November 1998

Jay D. Mancini

Jay D Mancini Jay D. Mancini is currently the Chairman of the Physics Department at Fordham University, New York.  His poems have appeared (or are forthcoming) in such journals as The Denver Quarterly, The Wisconsin Review, The Journal, and Turnstile, among others.
Coronation    Read Along with the Author


Listen closely to the stranger there
Across the way, waiting for an eye
To make the discovery.
Collecting kitchen ware
And discarded cans
The casual knickknacks of the flock.

Like a figured leaf his shadow folds
And weeps alone in doorways
Of abandoned storefronts.
Behold the flesh of wreckage
Broken as a rocking chair
Fearful still of marbled lions.

And the flame that burns on half-deserted
Streets illuminate the well-gowned
And lights him like a crystal ball.
While in the church a dimming
Of the altar lights bring, in gospel voice,
A crowning of the angels.

 

 

Excess     Read Along with the Author


In this the hour of receding
Sea, quiet spreads like dusk
Over silicate sand.
And Dreams of wailing birds
Signify a journey not completed.

Here in day's ending pause
Sparrows drift downwind
In vortex swirls. Crooked children
Weep for light like broken
Tambourines.

Unstilled streams string along
The muddled banks as drifting water
Fills a thousand cups. Let then
The night trundle off the excess
Of a drowning man.

This is the season of our death.
We are slaves of tide and phases
Of the moon. Ave Maria
Fill us with your grace.

 

 

Jay D. Mancini: Poetry
Copyright 1999 The Cortland Review Issue FiveThe Cortland Review